The Jumper and the Harry Potter Universe
by blackshadow111
Summary: An old, perverted, murderous wanderer has strolled into the Harry Potter universe. Follow the tale of Cepheus Gaunt, as the jumper plays through this latest jump, bending canon into a pretzel, stealing everything remotely shiny like a demented magpie, and fucking his way through enough marriages, father-daughter relations and happy households so as to start a war. Not very serious!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 2: In which fun things start happening**

 **So, a warning. DON'T SKIP THIS! Or you'll only flame me pointlessly.**

 **I genuinely believe that if placed in these situations, I would do such things. I'm not a nice guy, and it wouldn't take any more than 'half-decent' power to corrupt me absolutely.**

 **Now, previous experience teaches me that if anyone actually happens to read this, a lot of people will ignore this warning and flame me about my morality anyway. That's fine, but don't expect me to care.**

 **That doesn't matter right now, but it's best said early.**

Warning over, now on to the story:

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

So… this is the Harry Potter world. My first impression so far is that it's…filthy. Goodness, where am I? I mean, yes, I took Impoverished, but this looks…oh dear.

The memories are here. Hmm…so…

Oh boy.

Oh fucking hell. What did I-okay, I know what I did to deserve this, but is this life of mine a doozy! Tell me, what do you think you get when you ask to be an impoverished pureblood metamorphmagus Parselmouth who inherited a trove of dark magic and a pensieve from his ancestors?

Let me tell you what you get. You get Cepheus Morag Gaunt, and a bloodline that, well…let me illustrate in detail. It all begins, I suppose, when Merope didn't die after giving birth to Tom, but rather survived and was tracked down by Morfin.

Yeah. So, he tortured/brainwashed her into obedience, and they went back to the shack. The same year, there was a daughter, Ursula Gaunt. Two years after that, there were twins, a brother and sister.

In 1957, when Ursula was all grown the family somehow came across Regulus Black, younger brother of Arcturus Black and owner of a substantial fortune. A plan was hatched, and executed, and Ursula ensnared Regulus.

Now another thing here. Regulus, wouldn't you know, was a Lieutenant in Grindelwald's armies, in Britain for recruitment. Well, that was the reason he'd given to folks back in Germany, at least. In truth he was here to deposit the gold and the items he'd stolen during a raid. That gold was the 'substantial fortune'. Well, he managed to squirrel away all the items he had in his vault, but before he could put away the gold, Ursula got to him.

They got married, and were all sickly sweet about it.

So far so good. But the plan went wrong when Ursula fell for him, and refused to kill him when Morfin asked. He killed Black himself, but not before there was a son, Pollux Eridanus Black, who inherited instead of Ursula.

So she did what any mother would.

She took the son, along with as much of the gold as she could, and ran away to a property Regulus had 'appropriated'. Well, time passed, the boy grew up, and married a Bulgarian Veela. There was a daughter, Elladora Isla Black. Several more years passed, and the money started running out. Ursula died in that time, and the family decided to come back to see if the house of Black could be gotten to give more.

In the meantime, Merope read about the new Hogwarts Head Boy Tom Riddle, and tried to sneak off the Hogsmeade to see him. Morfin found out and killed her in a fit of rage. The twins, Morfin Jr. and Hesperidia, ran away fearing for their lives. When they found out that Morfin Sr. had been thrown in Azkaban for the murder of Tom Riddle Sr., and more importantly, they were safe from their father they came back.

Time passed, they… yes, married. There was a son, Morag. This was in 1960.

Now, seventeen years after this, when the Black couple came back, they realized what a stupid thing they'd done. But it was too late already. They were injured in a death eater attack on Diagon Alley, and brought to St. Mungo's. Unfortunately, Morfin was there, having been brought in because of an injury of his own.

Recognizing them from the name and the Parseltongue, he acted in rage. He killed his cousin and his wife, and escaped with the daughter, who was about 19.

After that there was a quick marriage between Morag and Elladora to 'seal the bloodline'. Not that I need to tell you this, but Elladora was both under the Imperius and drugged to the gills. What followed was literal hell. Rape was almost a daily event, coupled with beatings, torture, and everything else a family of demented, barely human sadists could come up with. This went on for two years, without rest or respite, and regular bouts of torture to complement it. Until one day, someone made a mistake, and Elladora ended up with a wand.

Long story short, both Morfin and Hesperidia Gaunt died painfully. Morag managed to blindside his 'wife', injuring her pretty badly. Still, she was a trained witch and he was a half-savage gutterling. He died and she lived, all in a matter of minutes. Afterwards, she healed herself, although the injuries would never _truly_ be healed. Unfortunately, it was too late. Mommy dearest was stuck with the product of the rape. To the slow ones among you, that would be me.

And so, nine months later, in a cold night of January 1980, Cepheus Morag Gaunt was born. She raised him, abusing him at every term for what he represented. Even caused him to be infected by a werewolf, not that she ever realized that.

And that, people, is my origin story. Fun, eh?

Speaking of which, I do believe I have affairs to take care of.

Rising from where I was sleeping, I tiptoe to the door. Mummy sleeps in the only bedroom the house has, which is…this one, actually. I just happen to be in the cupboard.

Okay, so this is going to be tricky. Checking my pockets, I find the single most important thing I own, a certain key. Okay, so where's the…keyhole?

Why am I looking for a keyhole on the inside of a cupboard?

Oh fuck. This just became a lot more- aaand there's a trunk at the back of the cupboard. Saved.

Opening the trunk with my key, I am greeted by the ever so sweet view of my warehouse.

I let out a breath I never knew I was holding. Yes. I am standing in my warehouse. This world holds nothing to fear.

Well then, first things first. I made a plan for this, back when I was sitting in my between-jumps house. It's time to execute it.

The first thing I pick up is a little golden thing, looks like a lighter. As a matter of fact it's a Kingsman grenade. Pocketing it, I move on to the second most important thing. It's a huge, strange looking thing, a device of my own creation out of several combined car batteries. Ignoring the bulk of it, I look for the cables that should be… there.

Holding them both, I flick a switch, and just smile wide in relaxation as wave after wave of current flows into me, recharging my Conduit powers until I'm running absolutely one-hundred percent hot. Once that's done, I pick up another grenade, and then it's time to act. Stepping out of the warehouse, I withdraw and pocket my key, and walk to the door.

Now, until ten minutes ago, this body was a thin, reedy, malnourished ten year old, barely capable of holding its own against a rabbit. Now, with stacked perks and powers acting in unison… well, I'm still not anything all that great, but I can bench press about ninety kilos easy.

So a weak, half-rotten cupboard door is no problem at all. As the door shatters open, I take a moment to make sure that my mother is actually there, just sitting up with a start, before I point my hand and a silvery-white bolt of electricity hits her straight in her chest. I pour it on, drawing on my new memories and the sheer hate I feel for this woman to ignore her screams. Eventually the screams stop, her body blackens and chars, and still I keep pouring it on. I spend what was half a week's worth of charge in less than a minute, and then I shut it down.

Walking out tentatively, I look at her. Dead as a doornail.

 _G_ _ood_.

I reach out and pick up the wand lying by her bedside, ignoring both the sudden rush of heat that starts from erupts from it and runs up my arm, and the blood-red sparks that explode from the tip.

That's one thing done.

Stepping back, I cast my first bit of magic. The Vanishing charm is a fifth year spell, and a rather difficult one, but I have a perk that gives me perfect wandless magic.

This should be a cinch.

I wave the wand, mutter the spell...and of course, it isn't.

A cinch , y'know?

To be fair, it's not _entirely_ ineffective, the finger closest to me does vanish, but that's it. I discard the wand and try wandlessly. This time it's just the fingertip.

Figures. It takes me nearly ten tries with the wand to do it, each covering more, and by the end I have a cramp in my arm. But the evidence is disposed of, nonetheless.

That done, I need to take care of another thing. Tossing the wand where the corpse used to be a moment ago, I start preparing. The words of the spell are remembered, the magic is readied, and…I cast the Sunlight Charm on myself.

My first thought is, well, ' _Hothothot!'_

Don't look at me like that, it _fucking_ burns! It's a slow burn, starting from my chest area and spreading outwards. I feel it cover me, inch-by-inch, making me feel as if I just jumped into a furnace. The purging fires of the charm sweep through my veins, burning away the curse like so much cinder. It takes nearly half an hour, and the heat around the actual scar lasts the longest, but at last, it's done.

Rising from where I'm lying, I make my way to the door. There, I use my key, and…yes. Here we are, in my great and wonderful warehouse!

Well then, time to get this show on the road!

XXXXXXXXXXXX

 **Two Hours Later  
Gringotts Bank**

"Yes?"

"I wish to enquire if there are any vaults that I own in the bank." I say quickly, making sure there's no hesitation in my voice.

The goblin leans forward, looming over me from across the counter. After what seems like a hundred lifetimes, it nods. "Very ?"

"Cepheus Gaunt."

The goblin raises an eyebrow, staring at me for a moment. Then it nods slightly.

"Name of your parents?"

"Elladora Black and Morag Gaunt."

Another eyebrow raised, another stare. Then it reaches under the counter, and brings out a form and a quill. "Write your name in the box. Your full name."

I comply. As soon as I touch the quill to the paper the slightest of itches develops on the back of my hand.

Hm. So that's one point in favor of perceived 'fanon', then. I write out my name in full, a process that leaves my hand desperately itchy but thankfully has no other effects, and then wait for the goblin to examine the form.

It takes about ten seconds staring at the thing, turning it this way and that. Then it brings it close to its face and fucking sniffs it! What the hell?

Anyway, it hops off the stool, after telling me to follow it.

It ends up taking most of the morning, in the end, with potions to dip fingers into, forms to fill, applications to make and questions to answer, but in the end it does all end. And so here I am, standing about a meter in front of vault number 707, booked about fifty years and change ago by Regulus Black. Not the Regulus Black I know of, but the other one who till now was just a name on a family tree. Except that now he's my great-grandfather. Yeah, no shit.

I mean, I went through a slight version of this back when I received the local memories, but they didn't cover everything, since mom wasn't very fond of sharing family stories with the son she loathed. The basics had been plenty, really.

But this… well, this has possibilities.

I'll need to think on this properly, but not exactly right now. The goblin just opened the vault.

Stepping in, I look around. I don't know exactly what I was expecting...but I'm disappointed all the same. Well, this blows. I hadn't exactly expected vast fortunes, but would some money have been too much to ask for? The shelves around the vaultare all completely bare, almost taunting me with the wealth they should have been holding.

I mean, I'm not exactly strapped for money. There's enough gold in my warehouse build this whole bank out of solid gold, and that's without touching any of the jewelry or the coins. But it's the principle of the thing, y'know.

Well, here's a goal to myself. I'll stuff this vault full of money till it's fit to burst. Without taking the warehouse shortcut. I mean, it won't be easy, oh no, but it sure as hell will be fun. I already have a list of a number of people who are…unworthy to remain rich. Or alive, for that matter.

Still, I need to take a good look at everything that is here.

Let's see, yeah, it's basically the stuff I bought using my CP. A stack of dark magic books, a pensieve, and…oh, what's this? The deed to a castle… on an island in the Atlantic Ocean?

Fucking really? The castle I first got in Far Far Away, the castle I decorated so bloody carefully…is serving as Jump-Chan's fuck you to bad 'Lord Harry' stories?

Sure, I suppose. Why not?

I ignore the pensieve and the books for now. They'll keep. Right now, I need to get myself settled somewhere. When I pick up the deed, I notice the items lying under it. It's an envelope, pretty large, about A4 sized. I pick it up, and it's too heavy for just paper or parchment.

Opening the flap and looking reveals a couple of sheets of parchment and a large golden key. I take both out, and breeze through the letter. Hmm… the key is a portkey, last will and testament of Regulus Black, everything to the oldest male of my direct bloodline…ah! The password to activate the portkey is 'Domus'.

Which is… 'home', in Latin.

Real innovative, gramps.

 **POV Shift: 1p to 3p**

 **Tense Shift: Present to Past**

XXXXXXXXXXX

 **July the 28** **th** **  
Gringotts**

If one had to use a single word to describe the man, it would have to be 'nondescript'. He was just utterly, absolutely unremarkable in every aspect. Dirty brown hair framed a sallow face, with brown eyes and thin spectacles perched on an utterly ordinary nose.

Dressed in plain black robes, he moved steadily through the atrium of Gringotts, taking quick strides until he reached one of the counters.

The goblin looked up.

"Yes?" it asked in its kind's usual angry, nasal tone.

"I want to talk to someone about some gold."

"Gringotts is not in the business of selling metals, wizard. You need to talk to someone in the alley."

"I'm not here to buy gold. I want to sell."

"Then you most definitely want someone in the alley."

"I have one hundred kilograms of pure gold, completely unadulterated.

With that particular pronouncement, the goblin's attitude did a total one-eighty. Cepheus had expected as much. Call them what one would, goblins were true professionals.

"Your name?"

"John Jones." Cepheus Gaunt replied.

"You realize that to waste the time of the goblin nation will cause you no end of trouble?"

"Of course."

"Very well." It said, hopping off of its stool.

Cepheus followed it to a small office just inside one of the corridors, where it sat down across the desk. Settling in, it leveled a gaze at Cepheus. "Let's see it, then."

Cepheus nodded, taking out the brick he had in his pocket. The goblin peered at it closely, sniffing it and at one point giving it a long, wet lick. Once it was done, the goblin stared at the boy, focusing a calculating gaze so intense that Cepheus could practically feel his skin crawl.

"The gold is nearly worthless. Gringotts would have to spend hundreds of galleons on every brick to make it usable."

Cepheus just nodded.

"There are other issues as well, but Gringotts understand your need, and the value your custom may have in the future. At the same time, the bank itself cannot buy your gold."

"But-but how-"

"There is a goblin willing to work even with such substandard materials. We would have to act as a proxy for him."

"Oh, of course"

"Would you be willing to wait while the sample is shown to him and brought back?"

"Oh, sure."

The goblin summoned another goblin with a clap of its hands, and sent it off after telling it to present the brick to the "Number nine goldsmith."

As the younger goblin left, Cepheus leaned back in his chair and let his mind wander. He hoped it didn't take the goblins too long to check if the Philosopher's Stone was still there, and he _really_ hoped that the gold didn't actually end up matching with the sample Flamel had left in their care. He remembered the words of the goblin wraith quite clearly. He'd be screwed if that happened.

Still, the same wraith had checked his gold and told him it was entirely different, so he wasn't worried too much.

It ended up being a full fifteen minutes before the younger goblin came back.

"The smith refused to accept this gold, Accountant. I had to grovel to him to do a favor to a poor orphan pureblood."

"My humble thanks, runner." Cepheus said, smiling beatifically. He turned to the senior goblin then. "Well, the price?"

"Ah, yes. How much did he say, runner?"

"The smith said he simply could not pay a knut over a hundred galleons a kilo, master."

"There you are, Mr. Jones. That will make ten thousand galleons for your entire stock. Not a bad price for such shoddy material."

"Oh, I have no doubt. But I have my own needs, accountant. Tell the smith I will accept… two thousand galleons a kilo."

That caused a mood swing in the room.

"Surely you are joking, Mr. Jones. The smith is being generous at a hundred. Perhaps we could convince him to come up with a few galleons more, but two thousand… madness…" it trailed off.

"Perhaps. But that is the price I wish to be taken to him."

The accountant made a huge show out of nodding wearily at the runner.

As it took off, the young man ignored the accountant as it attempted to engage him in conversation. He was more thankful than ever for having had the foresight to use the resurrection stone to call up and quiz a few goblins on negotiation tactics. Frankly, these people would have chewed him up otherwise.

After then minutes or so, the goblin came back.

It said "The smith laughs at the wizard's presumption, but says he can pay a hundred and fifty for the spunk of the boy."

At that, Cepheus sat up, started. A fifty galleon increase at once? Something was wrong. He sat back, wracking his brains to see what he did wrong… and noticed both the accountant and the runner staring at him.

Well, figuring out what he did wrong was going to have to wait, then.

"I thank him for the consideration. And to honor his own wisdom and renown, I'm willing to lower my price quite a bit, I dare say. So tell the smith I am willing to offer the gold at… nineteen hundred galleons a kilogram."

At this the accountant reacted "Come now, Mr. Jones. This is foolish. He's being generous as is."

"All the same, accountant."

Making a great show out of its resignation, the accountant sent the runner off again.

And so the back and forth went. The goblins tried all their tricks, ranging from insults to flattery, and to all but outright threaten him, while he just smiled and named his price. All in all, it was a long, long time until they could agree on a price, which ended up being fourteen hundred galleons a kilogram, and thus a hundred and forty thousand for his whole stock.

Of course, then came the issue of how he would be taking the money.

"I'm afraid I'll be needing all of it in cash, immediately."

If the goblin found the request strange, it showed no sign of it. "Certainly. There is a hundred galleon charge for high quality enchanted trunks, if you would wish to take them?"

"Oh yes, certainly. Tell them I want a hundred thousand galleons purely in galleons in the trunk, and of the remaining, ten thousand each in Pounds, Dollars and Euros. Of the last ten thousand, I'll need…let's see, make it seven thousand in galleons ands the remaining in sickles and knuts."

"Very well." Was all the goblin said in reply.

It took several minutes for the goblins to gather together the money, which was time the wizard used to check over the trunk holding the gold. It wouldn't do to give the goblins less, or heavens forbid, more than they'd paid for, would it?

Still, the whole thing was over with about half an hour later, a few minutes after which the jumper had left the bank and was out on the street.

Next stop, shopping!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The bags crash onto the ground loudly, followed by me as I settle onto the sofa. Gods that was boring. Buying a full wardrobe of wizard clothes, a fancy, high-end trunk, telescopes, potion ingredients… all took inordinately, stupidly large amounts of time, enough that had it not been for the realization that these were all necessary things that would've needed to be bought eventually if not now, I never would have considered putting in.

About the only part of the experience I enjoyed was the books, but even that took far too long. Still, the job is done now. I have all the books on my list, not to mention many, many others. Grades two to seven of the Standard Books of Spells, for one thing, and others also, such as volumes one to three of _Mysteries of the Mind_ , to help me take advantage of my perk selection, along with a collection of books on law, history and legal history.

And, of course, books on advanced potion making, curses, low-level enchanting…a lot of books, let's just say.

Not nearly enough, of course, but they would do for now.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	2. Chapter 2

**September 1, 1991  
King's Cross Station**

I hum lightly to myself, as I settle into my seat. So, here we are, off to magic school! I look back at my summer, which…wasn't much of one, to be honest. Once the Philosopher's Stone was secure in the Warehouse, I didn't really get around to taking it out of there. I mean, I hardly know just what kind of tracking and detecting magic shit could be on that thing!

Instead, I studied. Oh _boy_ I studied. Day and night basically blended together, once I got myself on a roll. And it wasn't all spent nose deep in a book, either. When you can read and digest any book just by touching it for a couple of seconds, you learn very quickly to dedicate your time to the practical side of things. And as luck would have it, I'm not entirely devoid of talent in that are either.

So far, I've gotten through about three-fourths of the first year spell syllabus down, which means that I can cast them both wordlessly and wandlessly without losing any effectiveness. In other words, a good start. Potions and astronomy… well, I did take the 'Alchemist' perk in Sims 3, so that should help, but I didn't really bother to practice. I mean, c'mon. what'd you pick? Shooting bolts of energy from your fingers to do shit or spend hours sweating over cauldrons?

Anyway, I'm going to have to do both soon enough…

Fuck, I really _am_ doing this, aren't I? The previous jumps were all a bit of a haze, as the one universe I _really_ cared about gave me a level of mental trauma it took decades to recover from. But sitting here, in the Hogwarts express, on the way to the castle, _fuck,_ man. What the hell am I going to do?

I think of it all. Hogwarts, Harry Potter, Quirrell and Voldemort. Snape…

 _Deargod this is going to be so much fun._

Between my selection of perks and drawbacks, and the scenarios I picked, I have _plans_. Things to do, people to kill…like I said, it's going to be much fun.

But that requires something. Specifically, one thing all my plans require is unbelievably, mind-numbingly great personal magical power, which is also one of the major reasons why I'm here in this universe at all.

Which means…sigh, _studying._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The trip passed more or less uneventfully, his isolated compartment making sure no one disturbed him. Before he knew it, the train was drawing into Hogsmeade station. Quickly, Cepheus changed into his robes, before strolling out onto the platform.

From there it was the boat ride, gawking for several seconds at the greatest building he'd ever seen, more gawking, some silence…until he got to the only thing that held any real meaning.

"Gaunt, Cepheus!"

Aand whispers explode across the hall! ' _Gaunt?...Sacred 28…paupers….'sn't look like a pauper…stolen?...Corvinus Gaunt…'_

He smiled a thin smile, amused at the effect his family name had.

Walking forward languidly, he put on the hat, steeling his mind to protect his secrets.

As the cloth brim inched downwards on his forehead, he prepared. What would the hat say? What would it see? Could he repel it? What would it ask? Why, er…wasn't it talking yet?'

' _Hat?'_ he thought. No response.

He wondered if something was wrong, and whether he should talk to someone, when he heard the sound.

It was the sound of dice being thrown.

And after that he heard the voice.

' _Hm…so let's see.'_

' _See what? Aren't you going to discuss this with me?'_

It made no acknowledgement.

' _1D4 roll gives us six. Subtracting four, we get…'_

' _Oh, dear.'_

"SLYTHERIN!"

The thought dominating Cepheus's mind, as he walked towards the correct table was

' _Well, it could've been worse…'_

XXXXXXXXXX

…yeah, I could've been sorted into _Gryffindor_. I mean, I like that house, and I'd have liked the image it would allow me to craft even more, but the company… _eugh._ My choice would've been Ravenclaw, actually. Not too obnoxious, not too scheming, a safe choice.

Which, I suspect, is part of the reason why I'm here at the green table.

Still, like I said, it could've been worse. At least my name and abilities will help me here.

Reaching the table, I spy a place to sit next to a brown haired boy staring unabashedly at me, about a few seats down of Malfoy. Strolling ahead I take it, just as the naext name is announced behind me.

"So, Gaunt?" the boy asks.

"Yes?"

"No, I mean…my father said that the last time a Gaunt attended Hogwarts was nearly a century ago."

"Oh? But what interest does he have in my family?"

"He's a historian, actually, and the Slytherin family is a major area of interest for him."

"But what does that have to do with my family? And hey, speaking of families…"

"Oh, how rude of me. I'm Theodore Nott. My father is Timothy Nott."

"I'm Cepheus Gaunt. No idea who my father is."

"What? What d'you mean?"

"I grew up in an orphanage. Matron said my mother's name was Isla Black. That's about all that I know of my family."

"Wait, did you say Black?"

"Yes, why?"

"No, I've heard of the Black family. Like I said, my father has an interest in bloodlines and histories, so he spends a lot of time talking to us about it. The Black family is an interesting case. There are four members alive, three of which have their feet in the grave and one is in prison."

"Right…"

"Y'know, you could write to them, maybe? Get to know them?"

"I suppose, yes."

"Oh look, the sorting's over. Good, I'm _starving._ "

Actually, I am too, I realize quickly. Thankfully, the plates are filled moments afterwards, and from that it's just light talk now and then between bites, which goes easily enough.

All in all, it's not very long, before I'm on my new bed, looking at the ceiling. I didn't talk very much to Theo, and even lesser to others, doing practically nothing more than light introductions, actually. My mind was elsewhere.

I lie in my bed for an hour or so, waiting for everyone to fall asleep. It's only then that I stir.

The Gryffindor common room is many floors up, but it's a necessary trip. Before leaving the common room I do a bit of morphing to make sure I'm not recognizable to anyone, which helps, when I'm standing in front of the Fat Lady.

Before she can say anything, a whispered "Caput Draconis" opens the door. Once I'm in, it takes about two minutes to get to the third year common room.

Right. This is where it gets tricky. I take out my wand.

There are seven beds here, so…here we go! The stunners land quickly and precisely, and in a matter of moments things are rendered safe.

Next, I practice my second advanced spell. "Accio Marauder's Map" has the parchment flying into my hands in seconds. Once I have it, I wait. Will they wake up? I listen for any change in breathing, keeping eyes peeled for anyone moving even the slightest bit.

Nothing.

Another minute passes. Nothing at all happens.

 _Fucking yes!_

As I rush away from the tower, walking quickly but quietly, I allow myself a light chuckle.

That's one down.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next morning came all too quickly. I'd spent until 3 in the morning awake in my warehouse, trying to memorize as much of the map as possible. I got through quite a bit, before I started to drool on it, but I'm going to look at it some more whenever possible. This map is one of the items I tasked myself to gather, and it has the potential to be one of the most useful ones. Not for what it is, no, but rather for what it represents.

If I can dissect it, figure out the magic used and how to replicate it, then _that_ will be the key. Perfect knowledge of any building I care to step inside…oh yes, that has power.

Shaking my head, I roll out of my bed. This isn't a time to plant my head in the clouds. I have things to do!

About half an hour later, as I'm ready and stepping out of the commmon room, I spy Theo looking at me. Walking forward I step close to him.

"So, what did your father say?"

He goes red for a second, before sputtering "What, no, I, I mean, what're you talking about?"

"What did your father say, after you gave him the rundown about my family?"

"I didn't-but."

"Theo, Theo. You think the others didn't? C'mon. We're all Slytherins here."

"Who told you?" he says, voice low and more than a little angry.

I grin widely. "Well…! You did, actually. Just now." I positively chirp.

"What! But… oh merlin. Dad will kill me!"

"Well, you'd deserve it too! Didn't he ever tech you? The three rules of Slytherin house? Deny, deny and-"

"-deny. Yeah. I know." He finishes, looking positively crestfallen.

"C'mon now, it happens. No shame in being outsmarted by someone clearly so much cleverer than you."

"Yeah, yeah. Rub it in."

We chat lightly all the way to the great hall, before attacking our breakfasts.

Classes in Hogwarts are…pretty much as I expected them to be. _Philosopher's_ _Stone_ was rather bang-on in describing them, to be honest. I take care not to dominate them, well…not dominate them too much. I've never been one to underplay my achievements (mostly because I didn't really have many achievements to underplay), and establishing myself as a prodigy early on is kinda needed with all my plans and schemes.

Apart from the classes, Hogwarts itself is fun too. I mean, I've seen fantasy castles before, hell, I _own_ one…but it's kinda hard to consider other places as genuine, _magic_ castles once you compare them to _Hogwarts._

And so my time passes. I keep away from the… _other_ bits of the castle for now, mostly. I don't know if Quirrel-Mort ever used the chamber, and I have no interest in finding out, and I'm quite far from reaching a stage in my studies in which I might come to need the Room. What need I do have for a secret place to practice my magic, the area on the fourth floor behind the mirror serves admirably.

As far as friendships go…well, that's a rather interesting thing, here. I'd come into this world fully expecting to just isolate myself and just guzzle up the magic, simply _learn_ as much as possible, to unleash upon the multiverse later on. But as it turned out, that wasn't to be!

I never realized when Theodore Nott went from 'budding death eater to play nice to and keep an eye on' to 'possible friend' to 'friend'. Never really got how it happened that Tracy Davis greeted me now and then, I smiled at her…and we started working together in potions regularly. It was a hundred small things, but slowly and tentatively, familiarity grew.

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And so the year went. All through it, Cepheus worked, spending hours upon hours in hidden classrooms and corridors, fully exploiting the Marauders' Map for all it was worth, and as he did, his skill grew. It did so slowly, lagging behind and indeed, painfully slow at times, but it grew all the same. His skills without a wand were…decent, but not really anything to be proud of. But _with_ a wand…well, months upon months of effort ends up counting for something, let's just say.

The end of the year feast came and went, and Dumbledore overturned the decisions of his entire staff by openly showing a disgusting level of favoritism. Cepheus was proud, though, that it took the old coot granting over a hundred points each to his favorite gryffs to outmatch the score he and his friends had racked up for Slytherin. Small achievements were still achievements, after all.

By the time he was loading his trunk in the train to go back home, he had progressed… _very_ nicely, it had to be said. His skills in mind magic were now good enough to completely wipe, fabricate, supress and otherwise mess around with memories, his occlumency…well, while untested due to a lack of potential testers, was something formidable all the same, and his magic…oh boy. He was better than a fourth year in most aspects, being able to perform any and all spells in their curriculum perfectly, even silently at that, but there _were_ problems.

Still, those would be taken care of, in time.

Now, he had the whole of summer to look forward to, and abilities to practice. There was a _lot_ Hogwarts wasn't safe for, and with two months of complete independence stretching befor him…

This was going to be _so much fun!_

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And that's chapter two! Much shorter than I'd have liked, but year 1's a bit too dull, to be honest.

This story might actually turn out to be a more complicated proposition than first thought. Whewn I began I was all excited about the Harry Potter universe and how I was about to write so much in it, but lately…well, there have been struggles. It might come to pass that I might end up fast-forwarding through it all. Unlikely, still at this point, but possible.

Wish me luck and suggest stories! I want to get back in the groove!

Oh, and the lewds begin next chapter. No lemons are planned as of now, because I'll probably suck _hard_ at them, but hope springs eternal….and I have _shenanighans_ planned!


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